


Tossing Up a Strong Vibe

by saekokato



Category: Bandom: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekokato/pseuds/saekokato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob is a guy who doesn't like to take his clothes off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tossing Up a Strong Vibe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](kink-bing.dreamwidth.org). My card is [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kato_fiction/9287.html#cutid1), and this is for the voyeurism square. Beta by the ever wonderful [](http://roseclaw.livejournal.com/profile)[**roseclaw**](http://roseclaw.livejournal.com/). Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Bob is a guy who doesn't like to take his clothes off. Brian knows that, has pretty much always known that. It isn't like it's the world's biggest secret right there. Bob Bryar isn't a guy who likes to be naked. Brian had always figured that it was like body modesty or something. He probably would have kept thinking that if he hadn't gone to visit Bob in Chicago.

Well, it is Brian walking in on Bob unannounced that does it. If Brian had told Bob that he was coming or mostly just when, as they have open door policies with each other, Brian probably wouldn't have walked in on Bob jerking off in front of the television.

Brian's pretty sure Bob would have kept it in his pants if he'd known Brian was going to be there. Sad as that thought is.

Still, all that is just shoulda, coulda, wouldas, as Brian's crazy Aunt Louise would say. Because Brian has definitely walked in on Bob jerking off in front of the television.

Like actually in front of the television, using the black screen as a mirror, bent over his coffee table, moaning like he's being ridden hard. His back is arched from the way he's spread his legs - back and out - so that he's still on his feet, but not blocking his view on the screen, and his head is twisted around so he can watch as a tentacle fucks itself into his ass. There's another one wrapped around Bob's wrists, pulling both of his arms over his head, and the angle forces him to rock up onto the balls of his feet with every thrust the other tentacle makes into his ass.

One corner of Brian's mind is thinking, "Well, that explains the always dressed thing." and "Okay, not jerking off, technically." while the rest of it is stuck on, "Guh. _Hot_." and " _Want_."

He gathers himself enough to put his bag down quietly against the floor and then to lean against the doorway, mostly in the shadow of the fading sunlight. Bob is too involved in his fun to notice Brian, and Brian isn't going to interrupt when he has the perfect opportunity to watch. Not when Bob won't be able to see him unless he turns and looks directly at him. And definitely not when Brian has a perfect view of Bob. Of the long arch of his back, of the way his tentacles quiver against his skin, of the dark pink of Bob's ass, of Bob's hard cocking hanging down between his legs.

Brian has always found Bob hot, and he's watched him doing everything from sleeping to brushing his teeth to drumming to working the boards in yet another shitty club, but Brian's never had the opportunity to watch Bob like this. Brian's wanted to - it's definitely one of Brian's favorite jerk off fantasies - but Brian can understand Bob's reluctance to hook up or do anything that would involve taking off his shirt or his hoodie. Tentacles have to be hard to explain.

Though Bob's reactions to Cortez's and Jepha's tentacle porn are suddenly a thousand times funnier.

The tentacles are like an extra set of arms coming out of Bob's body just below his rib cage, and they are slimmer than either of Bob's forearms. They are the same color as his skin, the sucker pads are the darker color of his hair, and the skin around them a darker ginger still. Brian would guess that they are long enough to reach the floor when loose.

Bob groans as the tentacle in his ass slides slowly out, the tip practically glistening in the light and rubbing over the darkened skin of Bob's ass gently, the sucker pads making quiet sounds against his flesh that are barely audible over the sound of Bob's gasping breaths and whimpers. His head drops down onto the table, cheek against the surface and facing away from Brian. The tentacle wrapped around his wrists twists and shifts over Bob's arms, one moment only one coil wraps around his wrists, the next two, three coils trail down his arm from his wrists to his elbows.

Bob rocks back and forth on his feet, hips working but finding no friction. The longer he makes himself wait, the faster, harder his moving is, and his heels come into contact with the floor. The tentacle draws up quick and snaps back down against Bob's ass, hard, the slap ringing clear over Bob's moan, then the tentacle retreats. Bob rocks up onto his toes trying to follow the tentacle as it hovers in the air over his ass, always an inch or two above the skin.

After a minute, Bob whimpers and settles back onto flat feet. Then the tentacle snaps against his ass in quick bursts of three slaps - across the right cheek, then his open, dripping hole, then across the left cheek - four, five, six times before Bob is begging himself, "Please, pleaseplease." rocking back onto the balls of his feet, and the tentacle hovers over his ass again. His arms twist hard against his hold, and the tentacle comes back down again, harder, a harsher sting judging from the sound, across the full width of his ass.

Bob sobs but stills. The tentacle goes back to rubbing itself over his ass, and Bob's breathing quiets. His cock is dribbling onto the carpet.

Brian has one hand pressed against his cock through his jeans as he watches. He wants to shove his hand inside, wants to open the jeans and pull his cock out, jerk off watching Bob dominate himself, wants to go over there and pull Bob onto his cock - hand, mouth, ass, tentacle, it doesn't matter, Brian wants it. He wants to know what Bob's thinking, what fantasy he's imagining, who it is in Bob's mind that's pushed him onto the coffee table so his ass is in the air. Who it is that Bob's taking it so prettily for.

Brian wants it to be him, wants to make it him.

But Brian stays in his shadow, squeezing his cock periodically, watching. The show is just too pretty for Brian to interrupt.

A minute passes, two. It's edging into three when Bob's voice breaks into the silence, rough like sandpaper or if Bob has sucked a cock very, very recently. The image of Bob sucking a tentacle like it was a cock, Bob begging for it, choking himself on it, floods Brian's minds eye for a moment, and he wants. But Bob is begging prettily and Brian wants to hear.

"Please. I need it. Please let me have it." His voice breaks on the second 'it' and trails off into a high pitched whine. The tentacle acts like it likes what it is hearing, it circles over Bob's ass coiling tighter until it is tracing lightly over Bob's hole. Bob moans. "Please! _Brian_."

Brian almost misses the tentacle twisting itself back into Bob's ass as his brain whites out momentarily. He bits down hard on his unoccupied hand to keep his moan safely internal, what noise that does escape covered by Bob's shout, and Brian has to squeeze himself hard to keep from coming right there. His eyes are glued on Bob.

Bob is bucking up onto his tentacle, taking each thrust as hard and as deep as he can. His back is bowed, his ass high in the air and his face turned up towards the ceiling with his eyes scrunched tightly closed. Brian recognizes the sounds he's making now, recognizes them from unsuccessful muffling in bunk or the back of a van or across the space of a motel room as the sounds Bob makes right before he comes.

"Please, let me come," Bob sobs out, still holding out for the voice in his head to give him permission, for _Brian_ to. There's a pause - Brian wonders if Bob is imagining Brian telling him, "Yes." or "Now." or "Give it to me." - for one beat, two, and then Bob keens Brian's name, coming all over his carpet, his coffee table, his own leg. The tentacle thrusts through his orgasm, still moving hard and fast, becoming almost gentle when Bob sinks to his knees.

Brian squeezes his cock again. He'll give Bob a minute to recover, and then he's going see about giving Bob his fantasy.


End file.
